Lyrion's Gift [Elven Conceptions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) (7 page)

“I had the royal artisans fashion these for him,” Talek explained. “My father still fancies himself a warrior, though he has not seen a battlefield for many years. This way, when he insists on his morning exercises, he is less likely to behead one of the servants or render the furniture useless.”

“How thoughtful of you to go to so much effort on his behalf,” Lyrion said. “These are quite beautiful in their own right. They must be a great comfort to the king.” He reached up to touch one that hung within arm’s reach.

A clatter at the doorway made both of them turn. An old man in armor advanced on them, dressed in full battle gear that included a gold breastplate and a white-plumed helmet. Long strands of equally white hair streamed from beneath the metal rim. The raised visor revealed two ice-blue eyes that gleamed with outrage.

“Before you wield that sword, young man, you must be trained and confirmed as a member of my army. Who are you? What is your rank and title?”

Shocked, Lyrion stepped away from the wall and started to mumble an apology, but Talek moved between him and his father.

“Lyrion is our guest, Father. He is not one of our soldiers, but has traveled from a distant land. You must treat him gently or he will think us deficient in manners.”

Grunting, the old man narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously around the room. “Where has he hidden himself? Not a beggar, is he? Or a diplomat? Pretty much the same thing, so far as I can tell.”

“He is neither, I assure you. He is my…friend.” Standing aside once more, Talek held one hand toward Lyrion, who bowed, and the other toward his father. “Lyrion of…the Forest, may I present my father, King Polidamis of Mavra.”

“Your friend, is he?” The old man snorted. “Well, so far I like him better than the other friend you brought me. I’m glad you never brought him again. Talk about unfit to raise a sword. His choice of armor was most peculiar as well. None too sturdy, if I recall correctly.”

“We have no need of armor at the moment, Father. We are not at war. You should wear the soft robes I had sewn for you. You would be far more comfortable.”

“Robes…yes. I remember the robes you brought me.” Pausing, King Polidamis tilted his head as if to examine the ceiling. “Fine-threaded robes, embroidered with gold. Your mother brought such robes with her, you know, as part of her bride chest. Lord Behx, your grandfather, had them specially made for her before she left his castle in the north.”

“Yes, Father.” Talek felt his chest constrict. He knew what would come next. “So you have told me.”

“The most beautiful robes…for the most beautiful woman. That she was, as everyone knew. But she belonged only to me.”

Suddenly, the old man’s eyes clouded over and filled with tears. He staggered back a step as though he were about to fall. Talek moved closer, extending his hands to catch him if need be.

“Where is she, Talek? Where is your mother? I must speak to her at once. You must present your friend to her. I think she would like him. She always did enjoy the patter of diplomats, especially those who could teach her songs from foreign lands.” His mood shifting again, Polidamis fixed Lyrion with a piercing stare. “Do you sing, young one? Know you any interesting ballads—say, of monsters or evil sorcerers?”

“I expect I could recall a few,” Lyrion said carefully.

The king’s wrinkled cheeks relaxed in a smile. “You must teach them to my wife, then. She enjoys an evening of ballads best of any entertainment. The more fantastic and exciting, the better. At dinner tonight, you must sit near each other. Talek, tell your cooks to prepare a tray of sweetened toadstools. Those are also your mother’s favorites.”

“I shall, Father,” Talek promised sadly.

“Go, then! What are you waiting for? Toadstools must soak for many hours to be soft enough for your mother to eat. The servants must go and gather them immediately. Choose them from the east garden, where they grow thickest and the stems are juiciest.”

“Yes, Father, straightaway.”

A discreet wave of his hand brought back the servant, who placed an arm around the old man’s armored shoulder and guided him into the next room.

“He will ramble on for quite some time now,” Talek explained as he and Lyrion turned to go as well. “In a way, ’tis best for him not to see me. He cannot help thinking of my mother when he does. Yet it makes him happy to believe her alive, if only for a few moments—how could I deny him that?”

“You must not,” Lyrion said without hesitation. “He enjoys your visits, I am sure.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course. For him, a few minutes of happiness, even based on a false premise, may dispel many hours of gloom.”

“Indeed. I never thought of that.” After leaving the king’s apartments, they strolled out on the castle battlements. Talek paced along the stone walkway in the same state of agitation and sorrow that possessed him whenever he had to spend time with his father. Lyrion walked alongside him, no doubt still thunderstruck by all he had witnessed.

“How did the king end up in such an unfortunate state?” he asked at length.

“As you can probably guess, I was born to him rather late in life. My mother—a female, as I told you—was much younger than he, though everyone old enough to remember tells me they loved each other most madly. When I was but an infant, a fever took her from him. Each year after that, he lost more and more of his wits until, I suppose, there were simply none left.”

“That is the truest sort of love, perhaps. I never imagined it would be possible with a female, but I suppose for some men, it is. We should not judge the way others choose to give their affections, I suppose. Everyone has his own reasons and tastes.”

“Quite so.” Talek smiled at the innocent comment. Even now, he knew there were many in the palace who did not approve of his preference for other men, but none were bold—or foolish—enough to challenge him about it. How different things must be in Lyrion’s native village. “You don’t have to go back,” he said. “I will understand if that is your choice. Kevris refused after the first time I took him. He has not seen my father since.”

Lyrion seemed to consider the possibility, but soon shook his head. “I will go again. ’Tis not the king’s fault his mind has betrayed him. He requires companionship, just as the rest of us do. Perhaps in time, he may recover at least some of his wits. If not, you will have given him as much happiness as you are able.”

“You are possessed of a truly kind heart,” Talek said, overcome by a rush of warm emotion. This man would raise his son, he reminded himself with pride. He stroked a hand across Lyrion’s face and followed it with a heartfelt kiss. Lyrion responded, tasting and licking at Talek’s lips. Talek loved the way he tasted, sweet and spicy all at once, the perfect mix of innocence and a passion he was just learning to express.

When they pulled apart, he saw that Lyrion’s pale lashes were brimming with tears.

“What has brought this on? Are these tears for my father?”

“Some of them are,” Lyrion confessed, clearly struggling to control himself. “But most are for my own Da and Fa. This life within me will be their grandson as well as the king’s. And I doubt they will ever see or hold him, or even know of his existence. They probably think I am dead. If your father’s pain is yet so sharp after so many seasons, how terrible must theirs be right now?”

Talek stared at him. He had no idea how to answer.

“My father did have one good idea,” he finally said, hoping to distract Lyrion from his sorrow. To his relief, it seemed to work.

“What was that?”

“Sweetened toadstools for dinner. They are known to...to stimulate certain parts of the body, you know. I am a bit embarrassed to think that my mother was so partial to them. But then, perhaps that is how I came to be.”

“We had them that night as well,” Lyrion said, his hand going to the part of his tunic that covered the mark.

“Yes. True enough. And then, as well, they seem to have had the desired effect. So let us tell the kitchen servants to gather some. We will send a platterful to my father, too, if he still wants them by tonight.”

As they walked on, Talek curled his hand around Lyrion’s. The gentle fingers slid through his, both receiving and offering silent comfort.

Lyrion stood in the center of the bed, his bare feet planted wide apart. Kevris’s mouth was sucking his cock with great enthusiasm and skill. At the same time, Kevris himself straddled the prince backward. Talek lay flat on the mattress, his hands braced against Kevris’s legs, thrusting up and into Kevris’s core. The strand of jewels around Kevris’s cock swung and clacked as he pumped his hips up and down. When Lyrion glanced down, he saw that he was using his own fist so that all of them would be satisfied at once.

Though the three moved together in a steady, almost savage rhythm, Kevris’s lips were surprisingly gentle on his flesh. Lyrion’s knees shook as pleasures crashed through him like summer thunder. Had their meal of sweetened toadstools really been that potent? It seemed difficult to believe, but their small and intimate feast for three had rapidly grown even more intimate. As the night wore on, their mutual lust only grew stronger. They had barely been able to wait until dinner had ended and they retired to Talek’s chambers before their bodies had curled together in passion.

Kevris’s mouth suddenly drove itself against Lyrion’s crotch with much greater force. His teeth grazed the tender flesh at his base while his chin pressed his achingly full bollocks. Tingling stabs of pleasure pulsed through Lyrion’s groin. These proved highly satisfying, to be sure, but he couldn’t help wondering what Kevris felt as he rocked up and down on the prince’s upthrust erection. Talek grunted and moaned with obvious excitement, while Kevris’s own moans of pleasure vibrated his tongue on Lyrion’s cock. As for Lyrion, his enjoyment was so intense that he could do little more than gasp for breath and whimper with need.

At last, their joining reached its inevitable pinnacle. The prince began to buck and shudder first, and his release was followed by a splash of hot seed that dripped down Kevris’s clasped fingers. Lyrion lapsed into bliss last, though only by a few moments, his chest heaving as his cock jerked and pulsed between Kevris’s lips.

Lyrion did not think he had ever experienced a sensation so overwhelming. Even his wits seemed to abandon him. At the very moment his body stopped trembling and Kevris withdrew his lips, a great black curtain threaded with gold seemed to fall over his eyes. Then his knees finally buckled and he slumped back onto the bed. Real darkness followed when Talek angled his head and blew out the candelabra.

The three slept curled in a warm tangle of limbs and kisses and slow caresses. Adrift in the dark, Lyrion knew not whose hand stroked his shoulder or whose lips brushed his forehead. He could not deny that each felt equally pleasurable and welcome. Then his eyelids dropped, and he slept.

* * * *

The next sight he beheld was daylight streaming into the room through the casements and the prince stepping from the bed. On the other side of him, Kevris still slept. Lyrion noticed that the strand of jewelry had come loose from his cock at some point during the night and lay on the floor beside the prince’s bare feet.

“’Tis time for me to assemble my ministers,” Talek said, stretching his graceful and well-muscled limbs. Random red marks adorned his magnificent body in several places, left there by the ardent kisses of Kevris and Lyrion himself. “They become lazy if I do not call them to account every morning.”

He crossed the room, wrapping his body in a long length of soft red cloth, and peered into the corridor to summon a servant. Lyrion heard them speak in hushed tones before the prince shut the door again.

“I shall take my bath in the Wardrobe,” he informed Lyrion. “The servants will prepare fresh baths for the two of you as soon as I am done. You may rise at your leisure.”

“Thank you. I should like to rest a bit longer.”

The prince paused to bend and touch his lips to Lyrion’s forehead. “Indeed. You must rest as long as you need and whenever you need. ’Tis the way one deals with these…conditions, I understand.”

“My condition is not so far advanced as to require special treatment, surely,” Lyrion replied, amused. He did not feel any different, though the mark seemed to have grown again when he looked back down at it.

“We must take no chances,” Talek said, adjusting his wrap around his shoulders. “I shall not allow the slightest harm to come to you or the future prince. Therefore you must take special care with everything you do. Promise me this.”

“I do,” Lyrion said. The prince stepped away, and he closed his eyes as a warm wave of exhaustion swept over him. He slept again until he felt Kevris touching his shoulder to rouse him.

“My limbs are quite sore from the night’s activities,” Kevris said. “I heard Talek say our baths were waiting. I should enjoy a hot soak, to be sure. Let us go before the servants run off and the water grows cold.”

As he climbed out of bed, he spotted his strand of jewels, still lying on the floor. He bent to pick them up.

“Why do you wear those?” Lyrion asked.

Kevris raised a brow. “They are meant to keep the prince’s attention,” he said. “’Tis a trick I learned when I worked in a brothel many years ago. But perhaps I don’t need them any longer.”

After a moment’s consideration, Kevris straightened up and left them where they were.

The two of them wrapped themselves in their own robes and walked together to the large corner room where the prince kept his ornate tunics along with other fine garments and shoes. The same servants Lyrion had seen on his first day at the palace had already stoked the fire and were heating an entire row of buckets. Twin tubs stood ready at one side of the hearth.

“You may go,” Kevris said with a wave, dismissing the servants as soon as they had poured the water into the tubs. “We are perfectly capable of washing ourselves and would prefer to soak privately.”

The two left without argument. Relieved that they would not be watching him or listening to their conversation, Lyrion shed his robe and lowered himself into one of the tubs. He noticed Kevris glancing over at the mark as he stepped into the other.